Page 46 of Behind These Four Walls

“Well, she began attending our sophomore year. I guess she tried the private school for a year, hated it, and made her dad let her attend public. So she attended Jefferson High all of sophomore and half of junior year until she left in the middle. I remember British literature was her favorite, Shakespeare especially. She loved all his works. She even got me into theater and convinced our director, Mrs. Hall, to let us put on a production ofHamlet.” Sara shook her head. “She was really into tragedies. That’s ... depressing. Right?” she said as if realizing it now for the first time, then laughed ruefully at her friend.

“You mentioned she left Jefferson High midway through her junior year. Did she tell you why she was leaving?”

Sara shook her head glumly. “I wish she had. Maybe I could have helped. All I know is she started becoming withdrawn after Labor Day junior year. She wouldn’t say why. And the weeks after that, she would say less and less, and then she was gone.”

Isla asked, “But was there something that happened around Labor Day that made her change suddenly and become more withdrawn afterward? Any event that stands out to you now that you think about it?”

Sara pressed her lips together, trying to recall something. “Nothing I can think of that was a big deal.” She quieted, thinking more. “Wait. I think there was some bad car accident that weekend and people died. Yeah, when we came back to school, that’s what everyone was talking about. Crashes down mountains don’t happen as often as people who don’t live around mountain roads think. Everyone knows how to navigate them here. But I didn’t really believe there was anything major because there was nothing on the news or anything. No one except a few students was talking about it. I chalked it up to rumor and forgot about it. But yeah, that’s about the time Edie started changing.” Sara looked at Isla beneath raised eyebrows. “Don’t you need to write or record any of this? How will you remember?”

“I guess you’re such a great teacher and former theater participant that you tell such a great story, there’s no way I’ll forget it,” Islaadmitted, chuckling. An understatement. Sara had Isla’s mind reeling, and the questions kept piling one on top of another, but she’d better jot down something to keep up pretenses. “Did Edie’s family support her interests? I would think so, since her father let her attend your school.”

Sara hesitated. “I remember her saying how much her mom did. And she wished her mom could come and see her perform. But of course she was all the way in Florida. But the rest ... they were complicated. I think her oldest brother came to pick her up after practice sometimes, and he seemed interested enough. He and her father even came to a performance. Just the two of them. She got really emotional then.”

Myles ... so he wasn’t as hard and icy as Isla thought. He might have had a soft spot, and that might have been Eden. Isla made a note to dig in deeper later, when she spoke with him.

“But the rest ... her brother Bennett—who was a total ass back then—and his friends Danny, Roger, and James. They always came around causing trouble. I hear Bennett’s grown up some now, matured some, though he’s the typical rich playboy. Thinks he’s God’s gift to women. All the women around, especially the ‘elite’ ones”—she used air quotes—“are vying to be the next-generation Mrs. Corrigan for both brothers. And I bet their little sister, Holland, has a bunch of wannabes who are itching to be the next son-in-law.”

Isla needed to redirect and wrap this up; she felt she’d gotten just about all the information she needed from Sara for now. There was just one final thing Sara had said that had struck a chord. “Bennett and his friends?” she prompted.

“She couldn’t stand them. They’d get off school and come around ours, trying to make trouble. They were bullies and assholes and played too many lame, childish tricks on everyone who wasn’t in their upper circle. That meant all of us little people down here.”

“Tricks like . . . ?”

“I don’t know because I never saw them doing it. But like the ones you might see in some of those really old eighties movies about wild teens wreaking havoc on their town? Edie hated their constant meantricks and hated that she had to go back with them because her father had told Bennett he needed to get his sister.” Sara paused, thinking. “Except James.”

“James?”

“Yeah, he wasn’t like the others. Danny and Roger were all bravado and clowning, getting into all sorts of mayhem. They were a complete menace. But James was different. Quieter. Sensitive. His downside was he was a follower. Maybe it was because his dad owned one of the biggest law firms here and also worked as counsel for some Corrigan interests. I don’t know, but I never understood why he hung around those guys. I think maybe he followed them around because he liked Edie and she liked him, though she never admitted it out loud. If they had, Bennett would have figured out a way to kill it, I’m sure. Bennett wasn’t fond of his sister—or at least that’s what it seemed—but he didn’t want his friends dating her either, especially James.”

In Daytona, Eden had never shown any romantic interest in anyone. Now Isla was hearing there was a boy she’d left back home. What could have been that serious to make her leave him?

“Do you know where I can find James? Is he still around?”

“Of course. Most people are born and raised and stay here. Especially if their family holds a lot of sway around town, as all those guys’ families did. Except Edie. I guess she escaped the weight of the Corrigans and all that. James is around, though. He lives off Birch. You sometimes see him around Bennett and the others, but not like when Edie was here. Something broke him too.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

James Mitchell’s home on Birch was more understated than she expected it to be, considering his connection to one of the most prestigious law firms in town. It was simplistic in design and looked as forlorn and lonely as its owner. The paint could have used an update, and the lawn was overdue for a mow. The place looked ignored, to be honest, and Isla bet the only people who paid any attention to it were probably his parents if they had to visit. To keep up appearances, probably. Who wanted a recluse of a son? It had been years since he’d last seen Edie, and he was just out of high school by that time. Would Eden’s leaving have made that much of an impact on a guy whose friends were as Sara described them?

Isla got her answer a moment later when he opened the door, a tired-looking man with listless eyes that barely acknowledged her beneath a mop of unruly hair. Isla was taken aback by how disheveled James looked, and she found it hard to believe he was one of Bennett’s close friends.

“James?” Isla asked, just to make sure she had the right guy, and this wasn’t his hapless brother.

“Who else?” His voice sounded bland, but his eyes suddenly held a hint of life. “And I already know who you are,” he continued before she could begin her intro. “Word gets around fast here, especially whenit has to do with the Corrigans and is coming straight from Bennett. Didn’t think you’d be stopping by here. Not much I can tell you about the big man that you can’t get from everyone else.”

Isla could only imagine what Bennett had to say about her. “Maybe so. But can you tell me about his daughter Edie?”

His expression darkened at the mention. She prepared for the door to slam in her face and was mildly surprised when, after a slight hesitation, he stepped aside to let her in.

The inside looked much better than out, homier if relatively sparsely decorated. The furnishings that were there definitely had a mother’s touch. James didn’t look like he could be bothered with anything relatively decorative.

“Why do you want to know about Edie?” James asked when they’d settled in his kitchen. Unlike Sara, James didn’t offer any refreshments, though Isla didn’t expect him to be that kind of thoughtful host, not because he felt animosity toward Isla—at least not yet—but just because he probably thought he wouldn’t have anything in his fridge that an unexpected female visitor would want.

Isla started the spiel she’d put together to get herself in the door, but James stopped her midway through. She was kind of put out. She’d worked hard rehearsing with Nat and Rey, making sure her bit sounded realistic and enthusiastic enough to believe.

“Let’s skip to the good part, okay?” James said. He looked tired, like he hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep.

As they walked through the halls to the kitchen, Isla checked out the array of photos that chronicled his life thus far: his graduation from their private school and then Virginia Tech, and then Georgetown for his law degree. All of them with James standing in between a pair of proud parents. His proud mother with her energetic smile reminded Isla of Sheryl Lee Ralph, which made her age indeterminable, and James’s father was the lighter mirror image of his son, sharing the same clear blue eyes, prominent nose, and lanky build.